I’m an American and I hunted quite a lot when I was younger. (Always birds, though I never used dogs.)
I can’t imagine wanting to hunt a raccoon. Shooting them to keep them out of the trash? Yes. Training a dog to find them so I could shoot them? No.
I was tempted to answer that question: Humans, but clever is not a quality that serves one well in the feud. (No offense, swampbear.)
On reflection I see you were referring to rabbits which I also cannot see myself hunting as they are just hoppy rats.
But I didn’t say “Wabitz”
Our local news has a reporter originally from Sri Lanka. She talks exactly like Elmer Fudd. It drives me nuts, so much I leave the room every time she does a story.
One day, Jennifer agreed to show Les her boobs if he would take off the band-aid he had on his left eye brow. “Oh no,” said Les, “Mother told me not to.”
“But look at this fine rack,” said Jennifer, standing in profile.
“Well, just once couldn’t hurt,” said Mr. Nessman.
On removing the Band-aid, a sputtering sore was revealed which spewed noxious fumes.
“What the hell is that?” cried Jennifer.
“A fartle, of course,” said Les.
“Well there is no way I’m showing you my boobs, ya freak!”
Les replaced the Band-aid and sulkingly pantomimed walking into his office and closing the door behind him.
